


If You Love Someone, Follow Your Art

by Pollys_hymnia



Series: Romancing the (Singing) Stone [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: But it's ok because Penlod, But that's just how he is, Egalmoth slightly-less underappreciated romance novelist of Gondolin, Egalmoth tried, F/M, I Tried, M/M, Maeglin asks for dating advice, Maeglin does fanart, Nevertheless Egalmoth does, One probably should not accompany Maeglin alone into a secret chamber, Slightly narcissistic obsessions with portraits, Stop being creepy Maeglin, more crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollys_hymnia/pseuds/Pollys_hymnia
Summary: Following Egalmoth's recent success after abandoning his Glorthelion fics, Maeglin takes to lurking anywhere in the author's vicinity.  Egalmoth tolerates this, for a while.  When confronted for being a total creeper, Maeglin leads Egalmoth to his hidden stash of forbidden fanart.  Impressed enough to forget his feelings of foreboding, Maeglin asks Egalmoth for some dating advice.





	If You Love Someone, Follow Your Art

Egalmoth’s fortunes had significantly improved since changing the focus of his writing away from Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Turgon, and everyone else he saw every day.  The only person disappointed by this alteration was Salgant.  And no one cared what he thought anyway.

No, Egalmoth was doing very well for himself.  Even Maeglin, who had always been a fan of his writing, had seemed to grow altogether more _obsessive_.  It was a little strange when Egalmoth found him lingering outside his door in the mornings.  However, when he looked down from his window and spotted Maeglin lurking in his garden at night, he began to grow positively concerned.

“He probably just really likes your new work, has he talked to you about it yet?” Penlod stretched and rolled over in the bed, pulling the blankets up over his head.  In the process his feet stuck out at the other end.  They really needed a longer blanket.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned?  Or jealous, or something?” Egalmoth inquired while tapping his fingers on the window sill, “Maybe challenge him to a glorious duel before the court of the king and defeat him for the honor of winning my love?”

Penlod’s eyes rolled beneath the covers, “Why would I fight for something I already have?”

Egalmoth tossed a wadded-up ball of manuscript over in the direction of Penlod’s head, “Don’t you go taking me for granted now, I’m sure there are many who would want—”

“There’s Maeglin.”

Egalmoth stopped short, “He’s a little… strange.”

“Mmmhmm, now come back to bed.”

 

Maeglin continued to lurk around Egalmoth’s dwelling.  Egalmoth tried to ignore it, but since his behavior showed no sign of abating, he finally approached him one day.  Maeglin was casually standing behind a slender willow tree in Egalmoth’s garden while acting like it provided adequate concealment. 

“Maeglin, why have you been… acting so strangely?”

“I’m not acting strangely, this is just how I am,” Maeglin countered.

Egalmoth shrugged, that was true enough, “Well, then is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually I wanted to show you something you might find interesting, I just wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What is it?”

“Come with me,” Maeglin said and gestured toward the garden’s gate.

Egalmoth suddenly felt suspicious, though he wasn’t sure why, “Alright, let me just tell Penlod where I’m going,” not that Maeglin would imprison him or anything, of course not.  Right?

Maeglin nodded and waited patiently as Egalmoth went to find Penlod.  However, Penlod wasn’t there so Egalmoth left him a brief note: ‘Maeglin is showing me something (?) please come find me if I go missing—by the way that’s a great idea for a story right?’

He rejoined Maeglin out in the courtyard and together they walked toward Maeglin’s rooms.

 

Maeglin’s residence was darker than Egalmoth had expected and the lone window was covered by heavy gray curtains.  Most of the light was provided by a single silver candelabra standing next to a writing desk.  Maeglin walked past the window and over toward a nearby book case.  He pulled one of the books off the shelf, and Egalmoth noted that it was a volume of his own stories.  The bookshelf swung open and hinged outward, revealing a hidden door in the wall behind it. 

Maeglin now removed a silver chain from around his neck that was concealed beneath his shirt.  The chain had a small but intricately carved key on it.  Maeglin inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it, opening the door.  There was another door behind the first.  Egalmoth’s eyebrow arched, “Uh, exactly what are you showing me Maeglin?” Egalmoth wondered if it was some kind of strange pleasure den?  Or dungeon?  Or—?

“You’ll see,” Maeglin withdrew another key from his boot, this one was larger and heavier.  He inserted this into the second keyhole and opened this door.  Behind the second door was a steel-barred gate. 

Egalmoth was really worried now, “Maeglin—”

“Shhh,” he fished out what seemed to be a clip from his hair.  When he pressed on it, the clasp sprang free releasing one of his braids and Egalmoth could see that the underside was shaped like another key.  Maeglin used this to open the gate. 

Now Egalmoth—at last—saw a room.  Maeglin took one of the candles from the candelabra and used it to light a torch that was hanging on the wall adjacent to the entrance.  He lit this and replaced the candle, then gestured for Egalmoth to follow.  Not without trepidation, Egalmoth followed Maeglin inside.  

When Maeglin held up his torch, Egalmoth gasped.

The room was filled with art—paintings, stone sculptures, frescoes, engraved mithril, plaster castings, mosaics, etchings, sketches—all depicting scenes from Egalmoth’s novels. 

As Egalmoth walked around the room examining each piece, Maeglin maintained a mixture of anxiety and excitement.  He followed Egalmoth closely, shadowing his movements, “Ah, yes, I am especially fond of that piece—I think it captures the essence of Glorfindel’s lapis lazuli orbs, don’t you?  And I used only the finest gold for his hair, I refined it seven times to be sure.  Do you like it?”

“I had no idea, this is all amazing… you’re very talented Maeglin.  Do you really like my works so much?”

“Oh I do!  I’ve read them all several times.  You’re so descriptive, the images just come to me in your words and then I have to make them real.”

Egalmoth grinned, “Thank you, I think this is the best complement I have ever received.”

Maeglin now looked visibly relieved, “Oh, good.  I had no idea if you would be as excited as I am about all of this or you know, sort of disturbed.  I’ve been told I can be a little creepy at times… Like in an affectionate way, I guess?”

“No, no I love it.  Thank you for showing me.”

Maeglin smiled then shifted from one foot to another, Egalmoth wondered what more could there possible be?  If there were three more gates he was going to run for it.  If there were seven, he was going to scream.

“I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

Egalmoth nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“If you really liked someone, and didn’t think they liked you, um well do you have any advice?  How could I get—how could I get someone to like me?”

Egalmoth leaned thoughtfully against the bare, sculpted, incredibly muscular marble chest of a statue of Ecthelion, “Well, what have you tried so far?”

Maeglin widened his piercing eyes slightly and batted his eye lashes.  Egalmoth suddenly felt uncomfortable, but waited patiently for more.  Maeglin tilted his head to the side, “That’s it.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Maeglin echoed, “not enough?”

“Well, have you tried talking to this person?”

“Of course, I talk to… this person about my crafts all the time,” Maeglin said in a tone that suggested this should be obvious.

“Well, maybe crafting isn’t their thing?”

Maeglin looked confused.

“Are they a romantic type?  Maybe try flowers?  Or a gift of food?  Well if they don’t like crafts do they like jewelry?  Talk to them about how lovely they are?  Write them poetry—and songs!  Oh, can you sing?”

“Not really,” Maeglin confessed

“Ok, no songs… so poetry, can you write?”

“Ah, no.”

“Ok, then I’m sticking with jewelry and flowers, do you cook?” Egalmoth asked hopefully.

“No.”

“We still have jewelry and flowers—or what about gifting this person a painting,” Egalmoth suggested.

“I tried that, she thought it was creepy.”

“ _She_ did?  Well, what did you paint?”

“Her, she looked very buxom.”

Egalmoth shook his head, “No no, generally speaking people don’t want paintings of themselves.”

Maeglin glanced over to his side where there was a large picture of Egalmoth standing upon the precipice of a high cliff with his shirt blown open by a strong wind and his hair fluttering free behind him, “Are you sure?”

Egalmoth followed his gaze, “Well, I do have to say I _love_ that—you’ve really captured how the moonlight reflects the silver in my hair.”

“Should I draw her like that?”

“No she would probably still think that’s creepy.”

Maeglin frowned.

“What kinds of things does she like?  If she likes animals for example you could paint one of those?  Or a carving?  That would definitely be cute and not creepy.”

“I’m not sure what she likes,” Maeglin admitted, “maybe moles?”

“This circles back to talking to her, you have to talk to her about things _other_ than crafts.”

“Like tools?”

Egalmoth’s palm found his face, “NOT tools, NOT crafts.  Talk about books—uh not mine unless she is a fan.  Talk about songs—don’t sing.  Talk about plants she likes, and animals—not moles.  What does she do for fun?  That kind of thing.”

Maeglin still looked very confused, “I think she might be a fan of your books, but she keeps it hidden because her father doesn’t approve.”  Here Maeglin looked thoughtful again, “Though I swear I found one of your books in his desk drawer one time.”

“Oh?  I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who this is?”

“Ah, no.  But rest assured you have many secret and not-so-secret fans.  Anyway, I will try putting your advice to work.  Thank you, and not to be creepy but—would you like that painting of yourself?”

“Oh, yes please!”

 

Egalmoth came home lugging the large painted canvas through his front door.  He set it down leaning against the wall next to the entry way and paused to admire it.  He looked quite dashing.  Penlod walked up alongside him and also examined the painting, “Um, where did you get this?”

“Maeglin.”

Penlod’s brow furrowed, perhaps he had underestimated Maeglin and his bizarre fixation with Egalmoth, “Maeglin?”

“Yes, I’m not supposed to tell anyone but he has a large collection of art he’s made all inspired by my written works, it’s wonderful!”

Penlod frowned.

Egalmoth tilted his head to the side, “Oh, you are jealous after all aren’t you?”

Penlod glowered.

“Well you don’t have to worry, apparently there’s some woman he’s fixated on.  He actually asked my advice on how to get her to like him.”

“A woman?  Interesting, what did you tell him?  Stop being so creepy?”

“In a manner of speaking…”

“Good, because seriously, stop already.”

Egalmoth laughed, “I guess we’ll see.  Maybe a girlfriend will be good for him.”

“As much as I’m sure you gave him wonderful advice, I have a feeling it won’t be of use to him.  Now tell me, are you relieved or disappointed that I didn’t have to come to your rescue?”

“A little bit of both.”

“And it would make a good story,” Penlod grinned, “In fact, let’s work on it right now, or at least the ending,” with that Penlod swept Egalmoth into his arms and carried him off into the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by lyrics from "Love Will Set You Free" by Engelbert Humperdinck which I listened to on loop for an hour while I wrote the first draft of this, for whatever that tells you


End file.
